


To Trust Enough

by aintitnifty



Series: Only Human [3]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: (I Swear They're Getting There), (Yes Still), Awkward Phone Conversations Ensue, Gen, Hendricks Didn't Sign Up For This, M/M, POV First Person, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintitnifty/pseuds/aintitnifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hendricks has a chat with a nervous wizard, and John is definitely not moping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Trust Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Time for Hendricks's day in the spotlight!
> 
> This is very much a transitional piece, and as such works best if you read [Ulterior Motives](http://archiveofourown.org/works/739503) and [A Well-Aimed Bullet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/721967) first.
> 
> Thanks, guys! Enjoy!

Gard picked up after the third ring, and I cut right to the chase: “You planned this.”

“I’m sorry?” Her voice was light, breezy. Far too innocent.

“You. Planned. This,” I repeated through gritted teeth. I hazarded a glance at Johnny’s office door, but it was still shut, giving him some privacy during a less-than-kosher conference call. “The dinner, the tutoring, your very convenient week of leave. You must think you’re really clever.”

“Apparently it doesn’t take much to be cleverer than two lovelorn idiots,” Gard said, and I dropped my head into my hand, massaging a sore spot between my eyes.

“That’s still no reason for you to leave me alone with them,” I grumbled. “I can’t take it anymore. They haven’t seen each other since Friday night, and now I’m not sure what’s worse: the mooning over dinner and vampire fights, or the moping now that they’re apart.”

Gard laughed openly, the way she rarely did when she was in Chicago. I wondered where she had gone for her leave, whether she had headed back to Valhalla or if she was just working for a while at MONOC headquarters. Perhaps they were one and the same.

“It sounds like my plan is going smoothly,” she said.

“No,” I said. “It isn’t. Fix it.”

“My dear Nathan, you’re missing the whole point.”

“If the point was to make me miserable, I think I got it.”

Johnny’s office door swung open before Gard could reply, and I automatically straightened in my chair as the man himself stepped out, absently fixing his left cuff. He paused when he saw I was on the phone, and raised his eyebrows in silent question. I mouthed, “Gard.” He nodded, looking a little deflated, then held up his right hand, fingers spread: _five minutes_. I nodded tersely and he gave me a quick mock salute before disappearing into the hall.

“How fares our fearless leader?” Gard asked, sounding amused.

“You broke him,” I growled. “And I expect you to fix everything when you get back. Agreed?”

Gard laughed again. I hung up on her.

I was just about to turn back to my work when the phone rang again, the private line blinking cheerily ( _annoyingly_ ) at every chirruping ring.

My fingers curled into claws over the keyboard, and I allowed myself a moment in which to glare daggers at that stupid blinking light. I pretended that I was a wizard who could break the annoying contraption with my mind. It was strangely cathartic.

But because I was not, in fact, a wizard, I finally released my breath and unclenched enough to answer the phone like a normal human being.

Or at least something close to it.

“John Marcone’s office.”

“Hey, Cujo. Is your boss in?”

I barely refrained from heaving a sigh into the mouthpiece, but the eye-roll couldn’t be helped. Dresden just had that effect on people. “He stepped out for a moment. Can I take a message?”

“Oh. Um.” Dresden sounded curiously flustered, like I’d thrown him completely for a loop. Maybe he just assumed that Johnny was always in his office (which, in all honesty, wasn’t too farfetched an assumption). “Sure? I was just calling to reschedule the Accords thing, if he’s still up for it.”

“Hang on.” I pulled up John’s schedule on the computer and bit my tongue to keep from groaning. The schedule was almost laughably full for the next few weeks. I scanned the color-coded columns, hunting for something disposable, and then I just sighed.

“Dresden?”

“Yeah?”

“Marcone’s booked for the foreseeable future, so I’ll have to ask him what can go. He’ll be back in a few minutes. You wanna just stay on the line until he gets back?”

“Uh… Sure. I guess. If you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?”

“Because you don’t like me.”

I closed my eyes; I could feel my headache coming back. “I like you just fine, Dresden. It’s the danger you constantly attract that annoys me. And I’m the one who offered, so relax.”

“Oh. Right.”

An awkward silence descended. I was tempted to just put the stupid wizard on hold and be done with it, but then he cleared his throat and said, “So the train.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his sudden attempt at conversation. “… Yeah?”

“The cover-up story, about the technical accident. Was that you guys, or the police?”

“What, your cop friend couldn’t tell you about it?”

“She’s been busy,” Dresden grumbled. There was a story there, I could tell. I let it slide.

“We may’ve had something to do with it,” I admitted. A few phone calls had been made, a few people had been paid to look the other way, and _voila_ : Instant cover story. A technical mishap, leading to a flaming train and angry commuters forced to take buses while the Wells Street Bridge was fixed. “Why, did you like it?”

“Eh. It lacks the pizzazz of the original.”

“True,” I said with a little smirk. “But few things can match the pizzazz of flambéed vampires.”

Dresden let out a laugh.

“Hey,” he said, “I’ve got another question for you, as long as you’re in a sharing mood.”

I glanced at the door, checking for Johnny, but the hall was empty.

"What the hell," I said. "Shoot."

“You and Marcone. How’d that start?”

I leaned back in my chair, narrowing my eyes at the ceiling. I wondered how much I should tell him. The SparkNotes version was probably the safest. If John wanted Dresden to know more, he could fill him in later.

“We were in the same platoon in Kuwait, and later Iraq,” I said. “We got along, found out we were both from the Midwest, and then... he saved my life. When we came back to Chicago he got involved in some less-than-legal affairs, and when he eventually asked me if I’d like to help him run this town, well…” I shrugged, even though I knew Dresden wouldn’t see. “It seemed natural.”

“And you never looked back, right?”

“Hell no,” I said. “I’ve looked back plenty of times. But the big decisions I’ve made, the ones that really matter? Those I wouldn’t change.”

“Huh.” Dresden went quiet again, and I let him digest the information. Distantly, it occurred to me that this was probably the most we had ever spoken. I wondered if it felt as strange for him as it did for me. I glanced at the door again, still watching for the boss.

“He does that,” Dresden said suddenly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Marcone,” Dresden clarified. “He inspires… loyalty, I guess. Somehow. Makes you want to help him out. Keep him safe. That sort of thing.”

“True.”

“It’s annoying.”

“Also true.”

“You know why he’s asking after the Accords all of a sudden?”

“Not really,” I said, tapping a finger irritably against my keyboard; Dresden didn’t know it, but he’d just hit on one of my biggest issues from the past few weeks. Johnny had been annoyingly less than forthcoming about his suspicions concerning the Accords, and how they related to what was happening in Chicago. I hadn’t forced the issue quite yet, but I was approaching my breaking point. I liked being in the know. It was easier to keep him alive that way. “All I know is he’s had his suspicions ever since the shooting. When I asked him about it, all he said was that something about the whole situation didn't feel right.”

“Besides the fact that people are trying to gun him down in the street?”

“That happens more often than you’d think.”

A beat of silence. “But that’s why you’re there.”

“That’s why I’m there.”

“Good.”

I frowned, about to question his audible relief, but Johnny chose that moment to reenter the office, and I said, “Hold on,” into the mouthpiece before covering it with my palm.

“It’s Dresden,” I said. “Calling about the Accords talk. You want to take it in your office?”

“Yes, thank you,” Johnny said, and I didn’t miss the small smile playing around his lips as he strode past my desk and into his office. I filed that tidbit away for later contemplation, and put the phone back to my ear.

“Marcone’s back. I’ll transfer you in a second.”

“Oh. Great. Thanks." I had just taken the phone from my ear when I heard Dresden call: "Hey, Hendricks.”

I brought the phone to my ear again. "What?"

"You know I won't let anything happen to him, right? That I'll do my best to help him out with this in any way I can?"

I hesitated before replying, even though the answer was obvious.

"Yeah," I said. "I know."

"Okay, good. Now put me on with the Don, minion. I have an appointment to make."

I rolled my eyes and placed the phone back in its cradle, called, “Line two!” to Johnny, and pressed the blinking button to transfer the call. I turned back to the computer, then paused.

Dresden had called me by my name. Interesting.

Johnny had closed his office door behind him, so I couldn’t listen in on their conversation. I could, however, hear the low rumble of Johnny’s laugh, and I could imagine Dresden’s put-out squawks on the other end of the line as John teased him over something or other. Lord knows I'd heard enough of their conversations to guess how this one would go. But it had been a long time since I’d heard Johnny sound so relaxed, and when I thought back to what Gard had told me about Dresden’s little outburst at the office last week, and the tail-end of my own conversation with him…

I pulled out my cell phone and composed a quick text to Gard:

_Maybe there’s something to this plan after all. He could be good for M._

Less than a minute later I received my reply, and silently cursed the day I’d agreed to loan her my philosophy textbooks:

_He who does not trust enough will not be trusted. – Lao Tzu_

Followed by a winky face.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for the long wait between installments; life got in the way. I foresee at least two more parts to this series, coming to you soon(ish).
> 
> N.B.: I fudged Marcone and Hendricks's history, because I honestly cannot remember if we learn it in-universe. This is my head-canon. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys!


End file.
